


What Can Remain Unsaid

by mcschnuggles



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, CGRE - Caregiver/Age Regressor, Caregiver!Ishizu, Fluff, Gen, Pacifiers, Regressing!Seto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcschnuggles/pseuds/mcschnuggles
Summary: Sometimes Seto just needs some looking after. Simple as that.
Relationships: Ishizu Ishtar & Kaiba Seto
Kudos: 10





	What Can Remain Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Special request for a friend who wants Isis/Ishizu taking care of Seto

Kaiba isn’t expecting visitors.

With the tournament finals rapidly approaching, he’s made himself scarce, though that hasn’t stopped people from trying to get a hold of him anyway.

He’s poring over his cards when the sound of a single knock, confident and clear, comes from the other side of his door.

It’s easy enough to ignore, seeing as the person doesn’t announce themselves or start spitting demands, but after a tense second of silence, the door to his chambers opens regardless.

Isis glides in with a purpose, coming to a stop right over his shoulder. She doesn’t even give him a chance to get up from his desk, putting him at a severe disadvantage.

“Why are you here?” Kaiba growls. He realizes a second too late his overcoat is on the other side of the room. Without it, his feels vulnerable, open to attack. If she’d decided to knock a few moments earlier, before he’d retired to his room and tried to salvage some sense of relaxation, he wouldn’t be having this problem, but he has the creeping suspicion that’s by design.

“I think we both know the answer to that.” Isis says. She looks so smug as she says it. Part of Kaiba wants to shove her back into the hallway and slam the door in her face.

“Did your magic necklace tell you that?” Kaiba grits out.

She takes hold of his chin, tilting his head so he’s looking her right in the eye. Her grip is firm but kind. It takes everything in him not to melt into her touch.

“I did not need it to,” she answers calmly. Her free hand pushes through his bangs. “You are not the stone fortress you think yourself to be.”

That shuts Kaiba up almost instantly. It’s hard to have a good snappy comeback for the person who makes a game out of seeing right through you.

“Do you need to regress?”

Kaiba flinches at those words. It’s one of the worst things she could say to him, not just because she likes to keep up the illusion that she _cares_ , but because she _knows_.

And all because of her stupid necklace.

There are times that Kaiba wants to tear it right off her neck, just so it can’t use his secrets against him. Because then she can’t get caught in these loops of “I saw you confiding in me” or “I know the pain that consumes you” and Kaiba can’t get caught up believing them.

The worst part is that she makes him believe in her.

His lack of an answer is an answer in itself. The evidence is in his face, in the bags under his eyes, the weight in his shoulders.

Isis sighs, but there’s no sense of annoyance in her tone. Even on Kaiba’s least cooperative days, she refuses to let herself get annoyed.

“Why is it so difficult for you to be vulnerable?” Isis persists. The questions are for his sake, not hers. She knows the answer just as well—if not better—than he does. “I am nothing if not patient, but I can only get so far if you continue to push me away.”

Yeah, that’s the _point_. Isis kept weaseling her way in when he was vulnerable, when he needed comfort most. Like when he came out of her visions of the past confused and half-regressed and she just held him until the spinning in his head stopped. Or when they’d escaped from the virtual world and she did nothing but greet him with a simple touch to the shoulder, with contact so feather light and gentle he nearly broke down on the spot.

It was a corporate strategy he’d seen before. Everyone’s so quick to please a CEO, especially when they seem stressed. And if you help them in times like that, they’re more likely to remember your face, to give you that promotion. People have tried it on him more times than he can count.

“I know that there is good in you,” Isis insists. “And I know that you want desperately to be loved. But you have to meet me in the middle with trust.” A rueful smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Unless you prefer being bossed around.”

He did, but she didn’t need to know about that. It was all about pushing people to their limits, getting to the point that a normal person would think “this isn’t worth any amount of money to deal with him” and pushing and pushing and _pushing_ until they were so far past a normal person’s threshold that he could have no doubt in his mind she wanted to stay.

“I don’t need anything from you.” Kaiba growls. It’s an effort to keep his voice gruff, so he knows he’s fighting a losing battle. Quite honestly, he’d known that since she first walked in.

“You don’t?” She doesn’t need to remind him of all the times she’s held him, cradled his head to her chest and let him cry.

Kaiba remembers each and every one. If pressed, he could probably give dates, but could most definitely fill in the triggers.

Isis sighs, her fingers trailing through his hair again. The way her fingers move, sometimes he can’t even tell she’s touching him until he’s melting into her touch. She’s too gentle, too kind to hurt him. Even his instincts have learned there’s no need to flinch.

She eases down into a crouch, putting her a head below Kaiba. A knot loosens in his chest, one he hadn’t even realized was forming.

“I need you to be honest.” Isis intones. “I can see the future, but I cannot read minds, so while I can see you falling into my arms, I need to know beyond any reasonable doubt that you want me here.”

The worst part is that he does. So badly. Every time she stops to visit, he perks up like a puppy. Every time she uses that motherly scolding tone of hers on someone else, a cold spike of jealousy pierces his heart.

“Use your words.” Isis says. If Kaiba didn’t know better, he’d say that’s a note of uncertainty in her voice. Like _she’s_ the one that’s afraid she doesn’t belong, like she’s the odd one out who desperately wants to stick around, instead of it being the other way around.

“Stay.” It’s a hiccup in his voice, like he has to physically force the words out.

Isis gives him a strange one look, one he can’t really decipher when his head is so rapidly going fuzzy, so he lets it pass. After all, she smiles after.

“Very well, little one. I will stay.”

Her fingers weave into his hair again, and out of habit, he pulls his lower lip between his teeth and bites. It’s a bad habit, but if he’s careful about it, not a very noticeable one.

He had to stop picking at the skin around his thumb when he assumed Kaiba Corp. Physical tells are his worst enemy with employees and competitors alike. It’s a clear-cut sign of weakness that only makes him look guiltier when he tries to hide it.

“None of that.” Isis chides, gently thumbing his lower lip out from between his teeth. Magically, she produces his pacifier from the sleeve of her dress. How long has she been hanging onto that?

Seto can count the number of times he’s needed that awful thing on one hand, each coming with another traumatizing memory he’d rather just forget. But the point is that he’s too big for a paci, and the only reason he even has one was because of a stupid, sudden impulse buy.

The amount of middlemen and red herrings he’d employed in both the purchase and delivery of said item was probably only rivaled by a few very underhanded business dealings, but it was a necessity. This single item could ruin him, and he was well aware of that fact.

When he looks up at her questioningly, she merely shakes her head. “You were biting your lip earlier too.”

“You knew.” Seto fumbles with words, to the point where even simple sentences are far beyond him. “How did you know where it was?” is a question far out of his current abilities.

This time, her smile is pure warmth. “Perhaps I had a vision of you showing me where it was. Relax now, little one.”

Despite himself, Seto listens. It’s so easy to melt under her hands when she stands and pulls him into a kind embrace. His head slots so neatly into the curve of her shoulder, like this is right where he’s meant to be. His lip is between his teeth before he knows it.

She slips the paci into his mouth like it’s second nature for her, so quick that he doesn’t even have the chance to pretend to put up a fuss.

Suddenly he’s just there, with a comforting weight against his tongue, with a pair of comforting arms holding him upright, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He whimpers, tears building up in his eyes. It’s annoying to cry every time he falls into headspace, but it’s not like he’s going to get emotional release any other way. Besides, if he had to pick a time and a place to cry, Isis’s arms when he’s feeling overwhelmingly safe is a good option to go with.

Isis shushes him, rocking him a little. There’s something about the way she gathers him up in her arms that makes him feel so _small_. Realistically speaking, he barely fits in her lap. Not only is he an adult, but he’s a tall one at that, all bones and elbows. But the way she holds him, like she could just pick him up and carry him to bed, makes it so none of that matters.

“Tiny thing, aren’t we?” Isis says. “No wonder I came to see you.”

It’s true; she has a knack for appearing when Seto needs her most. Even when he didn’t know he needed her. Even when _she_ didn’t know.

Before he’s even aware of what he’s doing, Seto’s hand shoots out, latching onto Isis’s sleeve. He doesn’t want to be alone. More importantly though, he doesn’t want her to _go_.

Isis must realize this too. Once the initial shock wears off, she offers a little smile. “You need much of my attention tonight, don’t you, little one?” Her voice is teasing but her eyes are soft.

Seto doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t expect him to. She has high expectations of him, yes, but never impossible ones. And right now, talking is beyond his abilities.

“Let’s move you to the bed then.” She readjusts her hold, so her hands are against his ribs as she guides him into a standing position. It’s not necessary—he’s never had problems with coordination—but it’s the most subtle she can get about making sure he’s been eating.

Admittedly, he forgets to eat more often than is healthy, and the Battle City tournament is all the reason she needs to believe he might be distracted.

But she doesn’t feel his ribs jutting out when she holds him, and he doesn’t miss the little sigh of relief she breathes as a result.

Seto doesn’t need her help walking to bed, but that doesn’t mean he lets go. He sloppily kicks off his shoes, and while Isis makes a small sound of disapproval, she doesn’t intervene. Some battles just aren’t worth fighting, even for a pair as stubborn as them.

He settles on top of the bed instead of under it, knowing he’ll be overheated if he’s tucked in. Isis radiates warmth, especially when she’s holding him as close as he wants to be held tonight. Still, Isis frowns and draws the covers up to his knees.

“I’ll have to go in the morning,” she points out.

Seto just tightens his fists in her clothes. Tomorrow doesn’t matter. He’ll be big tomorrow anyway. Big and put together and too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

She only chuckles. “Very good counterpoint. I suppose I’m not going anywhere.” She tilts her head, staring at him with an odd, unplaceable fondness, and begins to sing.

She doesn’t sing often, but tonight is a special occasion with special circumstances. Seto needs some extra comforting, and the soft cadences of an Arabic lullaby never fail to put him at ease. He’ll be asleep in a few minutes time, but he’ll fight it as long as he can, just to take in the warmth of her arms, the sound of her voice, while he’s small enough to appreciate it.

Not every time they meet has to be because of an earth-shattering disaster.

Sometimes, he can just miss her. Sometimes, he can just want to be held.

Sometimes, that’s all either of them could ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> mcschnuggles.tumblr.com


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